


A Collection of Short Stories

by Iris_Duncan_72



Series: Requests [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Not all ships are romantic, tags and relationships to be updated as we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Duncan_72/pseuds/Iris_Duncan_72
Summary: Short prompt fics orginally requested and posted on Twitter.  Un-beta'd.





	1. Last Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungjin - I'm not jealous

‘Hey, where’s Felix?’

Hyunjin glanced up as Seungmin sat down across from him at the picnic table, lunchbox already in hand.  Jeongin was nowhere to be seen.

‘He stayed behind to talk to the tutor about his solo, he’s not too happy with the choreo.  Where’s Innie?’ Hyunjin asked, scanning the campus courtyard in case the young man in question was just late or –

‘Um.  His laptop’s been playing up so he went to the tech department...’

Hyunjin swallowed uneasily as Seungmin trailed off, dropping his gaze to his own food _Great._   ‘That sucks,’ he said, forcing some nonchalance into his voice.

‘Yeah, it does.’

For a few minutes there were only the sounds of them eating and the leaves on the tree above them rustling.  The tension was thick enough for Hyunjin to drown himself in it.

 _This is what you get for dating and breaking up with one of your best friends_ , the dancer scolded himself fiercely, not for the first time over the past six months.

An unexpected tinkling sound made him look up from his spicy noodles and he immediately zeroed in a delicate silver chain-link bracelet around Seungmin’s slender wrist.  Hyunjin had never seen it before and he knew it wasn’t the kind of thing Seungmin would’ve bought for himself.

‘Nice bracelet,’ Hyunjin commented, missing casual by about nineteen miles.  He only just barely managed not to ask who bought it.

Seungmin paused, pickled radish halfway to his mouth.  ‘Thanks,’ he replied, tone unreadable.

He’d always been so much better than Hyunjin at hiding his emotions.

When the cherry-haired boy made no attempt to elaborate, Hyunjin finally lifted his gaze to Seungmin’s face, trying to ignore the way his heart kicked in his chest at the welcome sight of those soft cheeks, pink lips, long eyelashes – _Shut the fuck up right now_.

‘I haven’t seen it before,’ Hyunjin said, overriding the yelling in his head.

Seungmin took his sweet time looking up from his lunch (rabbit food as usual, where was the protein for fuck’s sake).  ‘It’s new.’

He still wasn’t answering the implied question and Hyunjin had to focus very carefully on his breathing, make sure he wasn’t going to snap at the redhead before he allowed himself to speak again.  Seungmin didn’t break the eye contact, silently daring him to push and who was Hyunjin to resist a challenge?

‘Who’s it from?’ the dancer asked.

‘Why?’ came the prompt response and Hyunjin’s empty hand clenched into a fist on the table, which of course Seungmin immediately noticed.  Hyunjin moved his hand to his thigh and dug his fingers into his jeans _hard_.

‘I was just asking –’

‘But why?’

 _Don’t get angry, don’t get angry, don’t get angry_ , Hyunjin’s mental voice chanted.  Out loud, he said, ‘It looks like an expensive present.’  _And I didn’t think you’d found someone new to give you expensive presents._

‘It probably was,’ Seungmin agreed.

‘So...  Who’s it from?’ Hyunjin repeated determinedly.

Seungmin cocked his head slightly.  ‘Someone in my Calculus class.  He likes me.’

 _Don’t ask for his name don’t ask for his name don’t –_ ‘What’s his name?’

‘Are you jealous, Hyunjin?’ Seungmin asked slowly, deliberately, his stare very intent.

 _Yes_.  ‘No, what are you – Of course I’m not _jealous_ , why –’

‘Then why are you asking about my bracelet?’

Fuck.  Hyunjin licked his lips.  He could feel his hands trembling.  Goddammit, how did Seungmin always get him so riled up so fast?

When Hyunjin made no reply, the cherry-haired boy continued thoughtfully, ‘I think you are.  You never did like it when I paid more attention to someone other than you.’

Rearing back sharply, Hyunjin began, ‘This has nothing to do with –’

But Seungmin wasn’t done.  ‘You know you lost the right to be jealous half a year ago, right?  When you told me it’d be better for us to be friends.  Friends aren’t jealous when other people get their friends gifts.’

Hyunjin flinched.  He knew what he’d said.  It’d seemed like the best choice – the _only_ choice – at the time, what with his temper problems having been at their absolute worst, making him aggressive and unpleasant and dangerously close to violent.  He would’ve never forgiven himself if he’d lashed out at Seungmin.

‘I’m not jealous,’ he gritted out quietly.

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward until his chest brushed the table, practically spitting his next words.  ‘ _Stop.  Lying.  To.  Me_.  About _this_.  About _everything_.’

Wait.  No.  Surely not.  He couldn’t know.  There was no way he could –

‘You think I don’t know you’re still in love with me, Hyunjin?’

 _Apparently he does_.  Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock.

Snorting humourlessly, Seungmin shook his head.  ‘I’m not blind, you know.  I know what it feels like to be looked at by someone who loves me.  I know what it feels like to be looked at by _you_.’

When had this become about them?  About Hyunjin making the most stupid decision of his life?  About Hyunjin wanting a second chance, one more try to prove himself?

‘Why didn’t you _say_ something?’ Hyunjin choked out, both hands tightly fisted in his lap.

The cherry-haired boy glared at him, arms crossing over his chest.  ‘What exactly was I going to say?  And why would I say it?  You’d made your decision – for _both_ of us, I might add.  The fact that I was completely in love with you apparently meant shit all.’

Hyunjin bit back the question that sprang to his lips – _are you still in love with me?_   He had no right to ask it.  Instead, he leashed the violent emotions raging in his blood, pushing up against his skin, and apologised.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.  ‘I know it’s half a year too late but... I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it.  Didn’t try harder for us.’  Swallowing thickly, he added, ‘I just.  I was so scared I was going to hurt –’

‘Well you _did_ hurt me!’ Seungmin interrupted loudly, brow furrowing deeply.  ‘You betrayed my trust, threw my heart back at me like it wasn’t enough for you.  Do you know how much _that_ hurt?’

The bitter taste of regret coated Hyunjin’s tongue.  ‘I’m so sorry, Seungmin,’ he whispered, unable to speak louder past the thorns in his throat.  ‘I’m so sorry that I – I hurt you, that I made you feel like your trust meant anything less than the world to me.’

Seungmin sighed heavily, shoulders slumping.  He propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.  ‘So am I, Hyunjin, so am I.’

The bracelet glinted in the dappled light and even though it really was none of his business, Hyunjin asked, ‘Do you like the boy in your Calculus class?’

Without changing position, Seungmin shrugged, his reply muffled.  ‘He’s nice.  Well-mannered.  Interested in my opinion.’

Hyunjin’s pride hissed as the comments drew blood, but it had no place here anyway so the dancer throttled it.  ‘Sounds like a fun guy.’

Peeking at him from between two fingers, Seungmin scolded him sternly, ‘Shut up.  Not everyone’s a reckless adrenaline junkie like you.’

The remark was clearly meant seriously, but it was the most familiar thing Seungmin had said to Hyunjin in six months and it was a balm to his soul.  They gave him the courage to ask his next question.

‘Is there – Do you think there’s any chance that you might be able to trust me again?  Trust me with your heart?’

Seungmin’s hands smacked down onto the uneven table-top and he fixed Hyunjin with a gimlet-eyed stare.  ‘I don’t know,’ was his frank reply.  ‘Maybe.  Maybe not.  It would be very easy for me fall in love with you again, Hwang Hyunjin, but _I’m_ telling _you_ that that means nothing if I don’t trust you.  And you’ve got a hell of a lot of ground to cover before that happens.’

A disorienting cocktail of hope and despair swirled through Hyunjin.  ‘Does that mean... you’ll let me try again?’ he asked tentatively.  ‘To prove myself to you?’

Uncertainty written for once plainly across his face, Seungmin nibbled at his lip and distractedly stroked the silver links of his bracelet (Hyunjin had honest-to-God never wanted to throw something under a bus more in his life).  At last, the redhead exhaled deeply through his nose and met Hyunjin’s gaze again.

‘Yes.  Sure.  Why not,’ he sighed, arching a quelling brow when Hyunjin’s straightened in surprised delight.  ‘This is it, though, you understand?  You get this right or you stop and back off and get over me.  Last chance.’

The words reverberated in Hyunjin’s skull like the tolling of a bell – _last chance_.  He nodded firmly, unable to squash the edge of a determined smile curling up one corner of his mouth.

‘Last chance,’ he echoed.

_Don’t you dare fuck this one up, Hwang._


	2. To see the space rocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooho - Just pretend to be my date

Woojin couldn’t believe this shit.  Frustrated disbelief rising inside him, he rubbed his eyes with one hand before looking back down at his phone, hoping the words there might have changed.

No such luck:

_From: Binnie_ _🍕_ _🎼_

_Gonna have to bail hyung sorry :(_

_Minnie’s got food poisoning and he’s alone at the dorms so I’m looking after him (9:36 am)_

Awesome.  Fantastic.  Okay, yeah, that sucked for Seungmin (Woojin had a brief flashback to that one time he ate bad fish and spent a miserable two days throwing up) but _what about Woojin_.  How was he going to get through the doors of the planetarium now??

See, about a month ago, Woojin had won two tickets in a raffle at a fair to the newly-refurbished planetarium’s behind-the-scenes tour and holy _shit_ he’d been so excited!  As an astrophysicist-in-the-making, there was just about nowhere in the world he’d rather be than a planetarium, except maybe the Korea Aerospace Research Institute in Daejeon.

Then Jisung had read the fine print on the tickets and told Woojin that apparently the tour was for couples only.

To say Woojin had been outraged would be an understatement.  He’d ranted about discriminatory heteronormative capitalism and medieval societal ideals, stress-eaten a super-sized bucket of chicken wings, and finally curled up under the dining table to mope for three hours.  There he might have spent the rest of his days if not for Changbin, who took pity on him and offered to be his fake boyfriend for the day.  It was a testament to their relationship that Seungmin hadn’t even batted an eye at the suggestion.

So.  All had been well with the world.  Right up until three minutes ago when this goddamn text had come through.

Still half a block from the planetarium, Woojin completely disregarded the few passers-by and dropped into a defeated squat on the pavement, head hanging low.  His phone buzzed and he restrained the childish urge to throw it onto the road, instead glancing at the screen, one new message bisecting his Ursa Major background.

_From: Binnie_ _🍕_ _🎼_

_I can feel you pouting from here stop it you big baby_

_I’m sending a replacement (9:41 am)_

Woojin huffed at his best friend’s irritatingly accurate assumption of his current, dramatic display of distress.

_From: Woojin_ _🐻_ _🌠_

_what_

_who_

_what_

_answer me dammit (9:44 am)_

As he waited for a reply, Woojin anxiously eyed his phone’s clock.  The tour started at ten on the dot, he didn’t have much time left.

_From: Binnie_ _🍕_ _🎼_

_Minho-hyung, Chan-hyung’s bff_

_Natural disasters are more his speed than space but a rock is a rock whether it’s on earth or in a vacuum so you’ll be fine (9:49 am)_

Woojin was already up and speed-walking to the planetarium again.  Eleven minutes wasn’t long and he’d be there in three at most but where was this “Minho-hyung” coming from?  Would he make it?  There was no way they’d be let in late.

The sprawling, freshly-done-up building came into view a minute later and Woojin saw a middle-aged couple showing their passes to the young woman at the door before going in.  He stopped a little way from the entrance, far enough not to seem like he was loitering suspiciously.  Shoving his hands in his jean pockets, Woojin rocked back on his heels, eyes darting around as he looked for this “Minho-hyung”.

Just as he was considering either breaking and entering or kidnapping a stranger to be his pseudo-partner, a voice behind him called, ‘Broad shoulders, black and red braided bracelet, great ass – you must be Kim Woojin.’

Startled, Woojin spun around and saw a handsome, dark-haired young man with an upward-curving top lip and bright eyes approaching him.  He wore off-brand trainers, exercise leggings and wide-necked t-shirt that barred pale collarbones.

‘Minho-hyung?’ Woojin hedged.

‘Not to you,’ the slightly-shorter boy said, stopping a foot in front of Woojin, looking relaxed and interested.  ‘I’m a ’98 liner.’

‘I’m the hyung, then,’ Woojin concluded.  He glanced down at his phone again - five minutes to go.  ‘Listen, I don’t know what Changbin told you, Minho-ssi, but -’

Minho raised a brow as he interrupted, ‘Woah, we’ll never sell this if you’re that formal, hyung.’

‘This?  You know we’re meant to be a couple then, even though we met three seconds ago and don’t know anything about each other?’  Woojin didn’t mean to sound quite so interrogative but he was Stressed™.

A faint smile curled up the corners of Minho’s mouth, rendering him startlingly beautiful.  ‘Changbinnie did mention that in his call, yes.  As for us not knowing each other –’ he held up a small hand and folded his fingers down one by one as he continued – ‘my name is Lee Minho, my siblings are three cats and I love them, I dance, I like watching documentaries about natural disasters, and I have a scar on my stomach from where I had my appendix taken out.’

Woojin blinked in surprise.  ‘Oh...’

Minho’s smile widened, showing a hint of white teeth.  ‘Now you know five things about me, hyung.  Are you going to tell me anything about you?’

Slightly distracted (had Changbin chosen Minho as his replacement because he _knew_ Woojin would immediately want to compose paeans to the dancer’s beauty?), Woojin nodded on autopilot.  ‘Uh, I’m Kim Woojin – but I guess you know that already – I have an older brother, I love fried chicken and horror films, I have a black belt in kendo, and I’m going to be an astrophysicist.’

‘A black belt?  You’ll have to show me sometime,’ Minho mused.  ‘And I guess the astrophysicist bit explains your willingness to play fake boyfriends with a near-stranger to get into the planetarium.’

Woojin squawked in distress and went to protest but was brought up short by the teasing expression on Minho’s face.  ‘You’re having me on,’ he realised aloud.

Minho grinned.  ‘Of course I am, hyung, this is an _awesome_ plan.  Haven’t you heard the saying “Be gay, do crime”?  Just pretend to be my date, it’ll be fine.’

‘ _Your_ date,’ Woojin began, affronted, but he didn’t get much further because Minho was already walking forward and hooking an arm through his own, towing him towards the entrance and saying, ‘Come on, hyung, aren’t we on a tight schedule?’

As they joined the short queue to the doors (clearly they weren’t the only ones running late), Woojin looked down at the young man beside him and said in a soft voice, so as not to be overheard, ‘Thank you for this, by the way.  I definitely owe you.’

‘Changbinnie wasn’t wrong about your ass – take me out for a real date after this and we’ll call it even,’ was the unexpectedly cheeky reply.

The ticket lady gave them a distinctly disdainful look when they appeared in front of her a moment later, Woojin a red-faced mess and Minho cackling like a witch.


	3. Spare a moment for the kit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooin - Are you awake?

Jeongin didn’t know what time it was anymore, only that it was at least three hours after he usually went to sleep and good _god_ , he was tired.

When Chan had swung by lounge some time ago, on his way to the studio for a late-night producing session with Changbin, he’d expressed concern about the maknae working too hard.  Jeongin had beamed up at the leader and assured him he’d be done soon.  Satisfied, Chan had left it at that.

To be fair, Jeongin hadn’t _meant_ to stay up this late.  It was just that he was struggling with coming up with lyrics for Mixtape 4 and there wasn’t much time before 3RACHA were really going to need them.  So here he was at – he glanced at the clock on the wall and _winced_ – half one in the morning, on the floor of the lounge, surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper torn from his notebook.

It was probably because he was so tired but as Jeongin surveyed the mess around him he felt his throat close up and the backs of his eyes burn.  Most of the others had already finished or were most of the way through their lyrics (Minho was still struggling but that was _Minho_ , Stray Kids’ dancing jewel, he’d be fine) and Jeongin hated that he’d barely started his.  It was just so frustrating.  He felt like he was falling behind, like he was going to let everyone down.

Jeongin’s vision blurred and it wasn’t with sleepiness.

 _Enough_ , he told himself firmly.  _Go to bed.  Things will feel better in the morning_.

Sniffling a little, the maknae unfolded his long limbs and stiffly got to his feet.  He left his notebook on the couch (he didn’t really want to look at it right now) and collected the discarded papers strewn over the floorboards.  Padding into the kitchen on socked feet, Jeongin dumped his rubbish in the bin before going back to the lounge and turning off all the lights.  It took his eyes a moment to adjust but when they did, there was plenty of streetlight seeping into the room to see by.

Jeongin slipped out of the room into the short hallway, shutting the door softly behind him.  He made his way down the corridor to his and Jisung’s bedroom but paused, hand on the doorknob.  The thought of sleeping alone right now was very unappealing.  The very idea of getting into his cold, lonely bed and trying to sleep with all these unwanted thoughts bubbling away made his chest tighten.

Whose bed could he sneak into, then?  Jisung was automatically out of the running, he wriggled _far_ too much.  Hyunjin was always up for cuddles, no matter the hour, but Seungmin wasn’t over his cough yet and Jeongin was unlikely to get much rest in that room.  That left Woojin, Changbin, and Felix’s room and the maknae knew immediately whose bed he’d be crawling into.

A little further down the hall on the opposite side was the bedroom in question.  Jeongin opened the door as gently as he could and crept inside.  Changbin was still at the studio and Felix was a pretty heavy sleeper so that helped.

Tiptoeing across the room, Jeongin stopped when his fingers brushed the side of Woojin’s bed.  He stood there for a moment, just listening to his eldest hyung breathe.  Almost on cue, his lower lip started trembling and his eyes prickled.  Goddammit.  Woojin was a port of comfort and safe harbour for all the members, Jeongin no exception, so perhaps it was no surprise that the last of Jeongin’s emotional defences were crumbling.

The unexpected sob that squeaked out of him seemed loud in the heavy quiet of the bedroom and Jeongin pressed his lips tightly together.  His heart pounded in panic as Woojin suddenly turned over towards him, groaning softly.

Pulse fluttering in his throat, Jeongin whispered, ‘Hyung?  Are you awake?’

A deep rumbling sound came from Woojin, like he was humming in his most sleep-thick voice.

Jeongin bit his lip, anxious about disturbing Woojin but craving affection.  ‘Hyung?’ he asked again, just as quietly.

More rustling sounds.  Then: ‘Jeonginnie?  ‘S that you?’  Woojin’s barely-awake voice was almost as deep as Felix’s.

Fingers plucking at the hem of his t-shirt, Jeongin replied, ‘Yeah.  Sorry for waking you.  Um.  Can I –’

Then came the distinct sound and sudden rush of warm air that indicated Woojin had lifted the corner of his duvet, inviting Jeongin to lie down next to him.  Swallowing thickly, the tired maknae promptly did so, curling up against the delicious warmth of his hyung’s body.  Woojin grunted when Jeongin’s cold ankles found his calves but still slung an arm over the younger’s waist.

Since moving into the Stray Kids dorm, Jeongin had yet to experience anything that made him feel as secure as one of Kim Woojin’s hugs (except _maybe_ Chan’s hugs) and the awful tightness in his chest began to loosen immediately.

‘Why’re you up so late?’ Woojin murmured into Jeongin’s hair as the younger tucked himself in close to Woojin’s chest for maximum comfort.  ‘Bad dream?’

‘No,’ Jeongin whispered, lightly clutching his hyung’s thin t-shirt.  ‘I was... having trouble with lyrics.  For Mixtape 4.’  Emotions spiked again and his breathing hitched.  ‘Made me anxious.’

‘Ah, our hard-working maknae,’ Woojin hummed, the words familiar but said with sincerity instead of teasing this time and Jeongin felt a dry kiss pressed to his forehead.

‘It’s just – I’m trying really hard, hyung,’ Jeongin mumbled.  ‘I don’t want to make the 3RACHA hyungs more stressed but –’

‘Shh sweetheart, it’s alright,’ Woojin interrupted, tightening his hold on the younger boy.  ‘You’re not going to stress them out, we all know how hard you’re working, Innie.  Don’t think about it now, you need to rest.  Tomorrow, if you’re still worried, hyung can help you, hmm?’

At last, Jeongin relaxed and a smothering wave of exhaustion swept through him, forcing a huge yawn out of him.  ‘Okay, hyung,’ he acquiesced.  ‘Thank you.’  He wiggled forward to place a delicate kiss on Woojin’s collarbone.

‘Anytime.  Now, time to sleep,’ the older boy ordered softly, words slurring slightly.

In under a minute, Jeongin was out like a light.


	4. Questionable decisions at questionable times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Binsung - This is by far the dumbest thing you've ever done

Exam week was over and nobody died which meant that, for their last night on campus before setting off for inter-semester break, Jisung and Changbin sat on the floor of their dorm eating pizza, playing video games, and drinking excessive amounts of makgeolli.

By the fourth cup, they were both pink-faced and giggly.  Jisung’s accuracy had gone to shit so he watched as Changbin played the next round of Mario Kart and when the older boy won – crowing with delight, eyes sparkling – Jisung got a selfie of him sloppily kissing Changbin’s cheek.  This he promptly sent to his boyfriend, Minho, along with an appropriately sappy message.

 _From: Jiji_ 🐿❤

_having looooooots fo fun hyungiiiiieeeee_

_wish yuo were heer :(_

_lov eyou!!@!!!@ (11:49 PM)_

By the sixth cup, both boys were quite drunk and of course, as Jisung’s final brain cells were firmly drowned beneath the rising tide of alcohol in his bloodstream, so too did his sense of invincibility rise.  Even _with_ all his mental faculties online, Jisung was not known for always making the most sensible of choices.

And when he was sloshed off his face, no survival instincts to be seen?  Well, there was a reason all the broken bones in his life could be traced back to excessive quantities of alcohol or far too much flu medicine.

‘Hey, Binnie-hyung?’

The dark-haired boy lying on his front as he tried to build a tower of pizza crusts grunted in acknowledgement, too focused to look away.

Jisung rolled off the couch to lie next to him, solemnly watching Changbin’s efforts.  ‘Hyung,’ he whispered, not wanting to disrupt the other’s concentration, only his volume was a fair bit closer to calling-someone-on-the-other-side-of-the-football-field.

Changbin flinched, nearly knocking down his tower, and whipped his head around to glare at the younger.  ‘What?’

Jisung pulled out his best puppy eyes and said, ‘I wanna climb the tree in the courtyard and pick a leaf for Minho-hyung.’

Changbin blinked slowly at him, uncomprehending.  Then he scowled.  ‘Why would he want a leaf from that tree?’

‘The leaves remind me of him because they’re pretty, so I wanna give him one.’

‘Just pick one off the ground?  It’s too late for tree-climbing.’

Jisung gasped in affronted horror.  ‘Hyung!  I would never give my _boyfriend_ whom I _love_ a leaf off the ground!  I have to pick one of the top ones.’

Changbin squinted at him, pizza crusts forgotten.  ‘That’s like.  Really high up.  You’d probably fall and break your neck even if you _weren’t_ drunk, which you _are_.’

Indignant, Jisung pushed himself up into a seated position, eyes sparkling with challenge.  ‘I would _not_ and I _won’t_ because I’m going to do it anyway.’  He huffed and childishly turned his face away from Changbin, nose in the air.

There was a moment of silence before he wilted and looked back down at the older boy, who did not appear impressed.

‘Please come with me?’ Jisung pouted.  ‘It’s dark and scary down there.’

Over the years, Changbin had developed an annoyingly strong immunity to the puppy eyes but to Jisung’s endless glee, he became weak as a cooked noodle when inebriated.  So it was no surprise that, with only a token show of resistance, the older boy was sighing and clambering to his feet.  Jisung beamed and bounced upright, only to misjudge his balance and wobble, almost tripping into the wall.

Changbin groaned, burying his face in his hands.  ‘Let’s get going before you break your nose on a door or something.’

There was some hasty scrambling to collect IDs and keys (their building was old enough that it still hadn’t had passcode locks set up).  While Changbin hunted down a pair of shoes, Jisung sent another quick message to Minho.

 _From: Jiji_ 🐿❤

_can t gte u strass b ut dw ill ge ts mth eels se oaky (1:17 AM)_

It was important to him that Minho know he _had_ considered getting the stars as a present.  Unfortunately, his continued lack of a spaceship was a rather stubborn obstacle.

‘Alright, let’s go, let’s go,’ Changbin called by the door, words slurring a little.

Squeaking excitedly, Jisung tossed his phone carelessly onto the couch and skipped with all the grace of a newborn foal after his friend.  Changbin hushed him vociferously before they even got halfway down the hall to the lift, which only made Jisung nearly choke the giggles he was failing to suppress which in turn made Changbin start snickering and by the time they reached the ground floor, the two boys were leaning on each other for support, wheezing and spluttering for air.

Changbin swiped them out of the building and out they stumbled into the cool night air.  The sky was clear of clouds but, as usual, the city’s light pollution hid the twinkling stars.  A very light breeze stirred Jisung’s hair and the leaves on the tree in the courtyard ahead of them.

The oak tall but Jisung was determined.  He would climb it and pluck one of the crowning leaves for Minho.  His boyfriend was not-so-secretly very romantic and Jisung was pretty sure this was as romantic a gesture as any.

‘...You sure about this, Ji?’ Changbin asked as they stopped at the base of the tree, head tilted back.  ‘It’s very.  Tall.’

Nothing fired him up more than his best friend doubting his abilities, and Jisung nodded enthusiastically ( _too_ enthusiastically, almost cracking his skull against the trunk).  ‘Yep!  You have to help me up, though.’

Jisung had been hitting the gym in recent months but he didn’t like the odds of him being able to pull himself up onto the lowest branch unaided, given that it was a foot above his head.

‘I swear, this is by far the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,’ Changbin grumbled, bracing himself as he made a foothold for Jisung to step onto with his hands.  ‘You better not die, okay?  Minho-hyung will kick my ass _so_ bad if you do.’

‘It’ll be fine, hyung,’ Jisung puffed, pushing off of Changbin’s hands and scrambling onto the lowest branch.  He straddled it and grinned brightly, cheeks flushed with not only alcohol now but also excitement and exertion.

Changbin harrumphed, hands on his hips.  ‘Hurry up, then, I don’t want to be out here for hours.’

About three branches up, Jisung started getting tired.  He swayed a little on the branch he was perched on and had to quickly grab the trunk before he fell backwards into the shadowy embrace of the ground below.

 _I’ve got so far to go_ , he though despairingly, looking up at the tree’s lofty crown.  _Maybe – maybe I’ll just have a quick rest first.  Then I’ll keep going._

With that thought in mind, Jisung lay down on the thick branch he was currently perched on, arms and legs hanging leaden either side of it.  He’d seen big cats – leopards?  Jaguars?  Tigers?  He couldn’t remember – do this in nature documentaries, so surely it’d work for him too.  He’d just had a little nap here, then he’d get up again....

 

In the end, Changbin panicked after fifteen minutes of not hearing any reply from Jisung and phoned Woojin for help.  The thoroughly exasperated, very unimpressed older student brought a ladder (fuck knew where he got it from, Changbin was ready to get down and thank the heavens for their gift of one Kim Woojin) and Jisung was retrieved without any fatalities.  They both received a good telling off from Woojin, but other than that got off pretty lightly, all thing considered.

At least until Minho arrived to collect Jisung the following morning, having been filled in on the night’s activities by a vengeful Woojin.  The glint in his eyes promised murder most painful, a silent threat he remorselessly carried through with.


	5. Late night, sleep tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woochan - Are you still awake?

Woojin had told Chan he’d be late home over breakfast, so when the sun dipped below the horizon and there was no sign of him, Chan was not concerned.

A small tabby cat twined through his ankles, looking up at him and meowing plaintively.

Chan bent down to rub her head fondly, saying, ‘Jinnie will be home later, Dori, he’s busy at work right now.’

Dori mewed again and Chan scooped her up, cuddling the young cat to his chest until she purred.  Humming happily, he pressed a light kiss to the top of her head and set her down, before walking out onto the deck to admire the changing colours of the sky.  Gold and pink gave way to lavender and blue, and the chorus of birdsong swapped out with the chirruping tunes of crickets.

Flickering ribbons of silver gleamed amongst the trees surrounding Woojin and Chan’s forest home and Chan smiled, watching the little moon-spirits ripple and dance through the mild autumn air.  The delicate, white and blue blooms of his Night’s Kiss plants in the bed just past the edge of the veranda slowly unfurled, releasing a heady scent.  Alongside them, the creeping ether-pearl flowers did likewise, showing their tiny silvery faces.  Chan was pleased at how well the plants were doing; they’d all suffered a bit in the summer heat but had revived stronger than ever with the turn of the seasons.

Glancing wistfully at the treeline (the nightcap mushrooms would all be sprinkled with fairy dust by now, making them perfect for picking), Chan forced himself to turn away and go back indoors, heading for the kitchen.  As much as he loved having his husband home early, Woojin, like most half-dryads, had a terribly sensitive nose.  This meant Chan could only brew certain enchantments when Woojin was out, as the ingredients were rather pungent.

Singing softly to himself, Chan bustled about the kitchen, preparing what he needed for optimal potion-brewing – the tall beeswax candles on the window sill were lit, his gold pentagram earrings in, dried ingredients waiting in handmade ceramic pots (the little jars were much more practical than pulling out the traditional silver cups every time he had another potion to make), and his athame sharpened.  Then Chan set a pot to boil on the stove to start a sleeping draught, something he was running low on and took biweekly doses of to help combat his insomnia.

 _Speaking of which, I haven’t taken any today_ , he thought, slicing some lemon verbena leaves.  Setting down the athame, he retrieved the dark blue bottle labelled _Chan’s Sleep Remedy_ from the fridge door and poured himself a tiny cupful of the pleasantly mellow syrup.

For the next hour and a half, Chan contentedly brewed his potion.  This sleeping draught was a particularly potent one, so it required extra time and extra care to make it correctly.  Shortly after the clock chimed ten, everything was complete and the draught was simmering away on the stove, where it would remain for the next thirty minutes.  Then it had to be left to cool and settle overnight before being bottled the following day.

Tired from his efforts and the effects of the drink he’d had earlier, Chan sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the potion to finish.  He glanced again at the clock, lips pursed slightly.  Surely Woojin would be home soon.

 _He’d let me know if anything was wrong or if has to stay out_ really _late_.

With that thought in mind, Chan sighed and slumped over the table, resting his head on his arms as he allowed himself to slip into a light doze.  Having set an alarm for the potion, he didn’t worry about letting it over-boil.  He just... let himself... drift... off...

 

‘Channie?  Are you still awake?’

Woojin’s quiet call from the deck jolted Chan to wakefulness and he shot upright, blinking fuzzily.  Rendered speechless by an immense yawn, Chan heard Woojin shut the veranda door behind him and walk to the kitchen, no doubt catching the lingering smell of lemon in the air.  He appeared in the doorway just as Chan pushed himself to his feet, rubbing the sleepy fog from his eyes.

‘Hello, little witch,’ Woojin said softly, a weary smile spreading across his beautiful, honey-hued face.

‘Hello, handsome,’ Chan cooed, immediately stepping towards Woojin, only to be foiled by the timer suddenly going off, loud trills filling the room.

Both men winced at the unexpected noise and Chan was quick to dive to the counter, smacking the alarm into silence and flicking off the stove.  He removed the lid from the pot and draped a thin mesh net over it so it could cool without getting any inquisitive insects or fairies in it.

‘I’m not the only one who’s been hard at work, I see,’ Woojin murmured as he came up behind Chan and wrapped his arms around the witch’s waist when Chan leaned back against him.

Chan hummed, tipping his head back onto Woojin’s shoulder and meeting the older man’s gaze.  ‘You’re tired,’ Chan observed, reaching to thread his hand through the half-dryad’s dark hair.  ‘We should go to sleep.’

‘Sounds perfect, sweetheart.’  Woojin kissed him briefly before nudging him upright and shifting to take his hand, saying, ‘We can –’ He cut off at the mighty pout on Chan’s face and raised a brow.  ‘What’s wrong?’

Chan could feel his face flush slightly and knew there’d be no chance of Woojin not noticing it, his skin pale as cream.  ‘That wasn’t a proper kiss,’ he mumbled, frowning slightly.  ‘I haven’t seen you some ungodly hour of the morning and _that’s_ all I get?’

Woojin huffed in amusement, eyes twinkling fondly.  Cupping the side of Chan’s face with his free hand, he said, ‘It wasn’t _that_ early, Channie, it was seven.’

Displeased, Chan pushed out his lower lip and furrowed his brows further.  ‘It shouldn’t be legal to go into work before at _least_ nine.’

Brushing the tip of his nose over Chan’s, Woojin whispered, ‘Don’t frown, little witch, it makes me sad.’

Hand coming up to gently hold the half-dryad’s forearm and eyes slipping shut, Chan murmured, ‘Kiss me properly, then.’

So Woojin did, his mouth warm and soft on Chan’s, the kiss sweet and firm.  They stood there for some minutes, satisfying their hunger for one another.  When they pulled apart, they were considerably more wrapped around each other than they had started out as, their lips pink and swollen.

Chan beamed up at Woojin, dimples denting his cheeks.  ‘Let’s go to bed now, beloved husband of mine.’

Pressing one final kiss to Chan’s mouth, Woojin said, ‘Lead the way, little witch.’


	6. Tit for tat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minchan - Just pretend to be my date

‘What is _she_ doing here?’ Minho hissed as he and Hyunjin strode briskly across the reception room towards the garden, with little care for the many guests in their way.

The question was obviously rhetorical but Hyunjin, well-mannered to a fault, answered anyway.  ‘Just because you rejected her (and the four women before her) does not mean your mother has given up trying to set you up, and when better to spring someone on you than at your cousin’s wedding?  It’s not like you can leave.’

‘I genuinely hate that all of that is correct,’ Minho grumbled, swerving around a tiny old lady who was probably his one of his great-great-aunts.

‘I’m always right,’ Hyunjin said offhandedly, swiping a cream-filled meringue from the buffet table as they passed it.

‘Shut up before your ego suffocates us all,’ Minho returned sharply, only to immediately regret it, sensing the mighty pout directed at him without even turning his head.

Roughly two decades of muscle memory kicked in and he apologised without really hearing himself, backing up the barely-contrite words with a quick squeeze of Hyunjin’s hand.  When they’d been children, Minho had found that a gesture of tactile comfort had always worked better than anything else to stop his younger cousin’s whining.

The two young men reached the wide-open French doors and Minho paused, prompting Hyunjin to do the same.  Keeping his back to the room and standing halfway behind the taller man, Minho asked in an undertone, ‘Can you see her?  Can she see us?’

‘Hmmm...’  Hyunjin stood on tiptoe, well-fitted tux rustling slightly as he swayed back and forth, looking for their pursuer.  ‘I think we lost her, hyung, I can’t – Never mind, she just saw me, shit.’

Minho cursed and allowed Hyunjin to grab his upper arm and manhandle him out the door, past the next group of geriatric, jewel-encrusted relatives and family friends, and down the stairs towards the immense gardens.

‘You know,’ Hyunjin said, almost cheerfully, ‘this would be so much easier if you’d just get a girlfriend or boyfriend, hyung.’

Scowling, Minho jerked his arm from Hyunjin’s grip as they stopped behind an elaborate topiary hedge.  ‘Unfortunately, decent people don’t simply fall out of the sky, Jinnie.  No-one’s interested in _me_ , they just want my inheritance.’

Hyunjin opened his mouth but Minho cut him off immediately, saying, ‘Don’t even mention Felix, okay, you must have saved a country in your last life to find someone as angelic as him.’

‘He is pretty unreal,’ the younger man admitted, tucking his hands in his pockets.

‘And speaking of Felix, shouldn’t you be going back in now?’ Minho asked shrewdly.  ‘It’s not fair to leave him covering for us for long, you know how intense Mother can get.’

Hyunjin bit his lip, glancing up towards the huge white marquee where the celebrations continued and then back at Minho.  The anxious expression on his face told Minho all he needed to know, and he gently pushed Hyunjin back towards the entrance to the garden.

‘Go on,’ he said, not unkindly.  ‘I’ll be fine out here; this place is a bloody rabbit warren.’

‘Are you sure, hyung...?’

Minho nodded firmly, neatly combed black bangs falling forward.  ‘Sure am.  It’s generally considered bad manners to abandon your date to the tender mercies of your family’s very own Inquisition, you know.’

Hyunjin snorted and Minho smiled.  ‘Alright, alright,’ the younger man sighed, walking away.  Before he rounded the corner of the hedge, he looked back and said over his shoulder, ‘I’ll text you if anyone comes looking for you.’

Minho blew him a kiss, before turning and making his way deeper into the immaculate garden.  At the first fountain, however, he abruptly halted – there was already someone there, another young man in an another expensive suit.  Minho went to backtrack but the blond man’s head snapped up, dark eyes widening.

‘My sister didn’t send you, did she?’ the stranger asked, alarmed.

Minho raised a quizzical brow.  ‘No.’  A light bulb went off in his head.  ‘You wouldn’t happen to be hiding from meddlesome relatives too, would you?’

The blond man slowly walked around the extravagant marble fountain towards him and Minho’s eyes were drawn to his thick lips, large nose, fair skin, and expertly-lined eyes.

 _Get a goddamn grip, Lee_ , he scolded himself as the young man replied, ‘Uh, yes.  My sister is trying to set me up with all the unattached nephews and grandsons she can find.’

‘At least she’s offering you men instead of women,’ Minho said, unthinkingly.

The stranger’s brows rose.  ‘You’re being hounded as well, then.’  He did not make it a question.

Deciding he had little to fear from someone in the same boat as him, Minho sighed and ambled over to the fountain, careless of the little water droplets flecking his suit and face.  ‘My mother has been getting less and less subtle in her attempts to get me “settled down”, as she says,’ Minho grumbled.  ‘Given the tenacity of my pursuers, I’m starting to think she’s paid them.’

A sympathetic noise.  Then – ‘What’s your name?  I haven’t seen you at any of these events before.’

Minho side-eyed the handsome stranger.  ‘Lee Minho.’

To his mild surprise, there was no overt reaction from the blond man, whether delight or greed or shock.  He seemed only interested in the way that Minho was interested when Hyunjin had something he was particularly excited to share.

‘Shame about the circumstances, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Minho-ssi.  I’m Bang Chan.’  The introduction was followed by a smile and _oh_ , he had dimples.

‘And what circumstances would you rather we have met under, Chan-ssi?’ Minho asked, not entirely sure why he was going with this when he’d literally _just_ ranted to Hyunjin about the scarcity of decent humans swimming in their social circles.

Chan’s smiled widened, sincerity present in the creases at the corners of his eyes.  ‘Somewhere rather more relaxed than a wedding.  Have you noticed how hard it is to breathe in these penguin suits?’  Chan tugged at the stiff collar of his white shirt for emphasis.

‘Relaxed like cocktails on a yacht or like local-brewed beer in a dingy bar?’  Minho thought there was a lot to be said about a person based on which of these two scenarios they were more inclined towards.

‘Oh, absolutely in a bar,’ came the immediate reply.  ‘I’ve never relaxed on a yacht in my life.  Far too public.  Backstreet bars, though?  As long as you pay for your alcohol, no-one gives a shit who you are.’

Minho swivelled on his heel to face Chan fully, openly appraising.  ‘Well, I certainly agree that those circumstances would have been _much_ more enjoyable than these ones.  I might’ve even let you buy me a –’

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Minho cut off, whipping it out.  He cursed none-too-quietly at the message on his lock-screen.

‘Everything alright?’ Chan asked, cocking his head in an almost puppy-like gesture.

 _Of course, the one time I find a half-decent guy to maybe flirt with, reality promptly comes knocking,_ Minho thought sourly, saying aloud with a heavy sigh, ‘No rest for the wicked and all that; my mother is on the warpath looking for me.’

‘Oh...’

Minho glared moodily at the rippling water of the fountain.  All he wanted was _one_ family gathering not worrying about which perfectly lovely young woman his mother would be foisting on him next, Jesus fuck.  Apparently that was too much to ask.

Resigned to his fate, he unfolded his arms, which he’d defensively crossed over chest, and said, ‘I’d better start heading –’

‘Oryoucouldjustpretendtobemydate.’

Startled at the sudden unintelligible rush, Minho blinked twice.  ‘What was that?’

Chan was looking towards the reception party, cheeks stained a light pink as he resolutely avoided Minho’s curious gaze.  ‘You could, uh well, what I said was you could just.  Pretend to be.  Y’know.  _My_ date.  Problem solved then, right?’

Minho stared unblinking at the blond man for long enough that those big eyes flicked away from the marquee back to him.  Chan’s blush intensified a little but he didn’t look away, his shoulders loose, his expression hopeful.

‘Pretend dates are for teenagers,’ Minho said, voice giving nothing away.  ‘It’s a little late in the game I know but if you ask me again, genuinely this time, it can be our little secret.’

Now it was Chan’s turn to blink rapidly, mouth twisting in confusion.  Then comprehension dawned and he brightened.  ‘You want to be my date for real?’

Snorting softly, Minho half-smiled despite himself.  ‘Yes.  It’ll kill two birds with one stone, see – neither of us get nagged to discuss our respective family businesses with people we don’t care about and I get to take you to a bar as soon as this damn carnival of strutting roosters is done.’

A wide grin had taken over Chan’s face and it looked very good on him.  ‘Well in that case,’ he said, offering a gentlemanly elbow to Minho, ‘Minho-ssi, will you do me the honour of being my date today?’

Pursing his lips in a futile effort to hold back a grin of his own, Minho slipped his arm through Chan’s and replied, ‘The honour is all mine, Chan-ssi.’


	7. A not-so-undesirable distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minsung - I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention

Jisung loved his boyfriend.  He loved him, wanted only the best for him, and understood that he had to spend time studying to achieve his goals.  Jisung understood that the best way to support him right now was to keep his mouth shut and stay on his side of the coffee table while Minho tip-tapped away at his laptop, occasionally consulting one of the many highlighter-streaked pages of notes strewn around him.

Jisung _understood_ this but he didn’t really accept it.  It’d been nearly an hour and a half since Minho had last kissed him and goddamn, there was only so much Jisung could take.  Especially with his boyfriend managing to simultaneously look very beautiful, extremely cute, and outrageously hot in his rectangular wireframes.

Not even pretending to be doing his music theory homework anymore, Jisung pushed his books to one side and slumped across the table, resting his head on one arm and inching his other hand towards Minho’s laptop.  Without so much as blinking, Minho smacked his fingers away and kept typing.

Jisung huffed.

Not one to give up so quickly, he tried again, sliding his hand forward even slower.  Once again, Minho swatted his hand as soon as it was in reach, brows twitching into the _slightest_ frown.

Biting back a whiny complaint, Jisung settled for pouting and pointedly staring at his boyfriend.  Unfortunately, Minho’s concentration was truly a force to be reckoned with, and while that could be great sometimes, it was annoying as shit right now.  His gaze remained unwaveringly focused on his screen and notes.

Jisung decided to change tactics.

He sat upright and ostensibly sighed.  ‘I need a drink,’ he declared.  ‘All this study has really made me thirsty.  Do you want something?’

Minho finally glanced suspiciously over at Jisung – his hands didn’t pause in their typing though, how did he _do_ that – and he shook his head.

Jisung shrugged, rising to his feet and padding out of the lounge to the kitchen.  He poured himself a glass of orange juice and stuck a pink straw in it.  Armed with his weapon, he went back into the living room and sat down again.

Minho didn’t look up.

Jisung wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked, humming happily as the sweet flavour hit his taste buds.

Minho’s lips pursed but he didn’t break.

Jisung frowned and slurped as noisily as he could, making sure to leave his lips wet and shiny with liquid when he came up for air.

There was a distinctly tense quality to the line of Minho’s broad shoulders now and he was definitely frowning.  His attention didn’t shift, however.

Feeling petulant and needy, Jisung threw caution to the wind and moved around the table to he could flop onto his back, Minho’s thigh only a few inches away.  He reached up with one arm and began lightly prodding the cotton-covered leg.

A whole ten seconds later, the tap-tapping stopped and Minho glared down at him.

‘I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,’ Jisung said immediately.

Minho groaned and dropped his forehead to his palm, elbow propped on the table.  Then he pushed his glasses back up his nose and said, ‘Jisungie, I really have to get this essay finished.’

‘I know, but you haven’t taken a break in ages, hyung.  Think of this as being for your own good,’ Jisung suggested.

Smiling reluctantly, Minho’s expression softened with affection.  ‘Oh of course, _me_ paying _you_ attention is good for _me_.’

‘It is!’ Jisung exclaimed brightly, resting his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh.  ‘You get a break from study hell and a happy boyfriend at the same time.  Clearly a win-win situation.’

Minho laughed and pulled off his glasses, setting them down on his notes and rubbing his eyes.  He scooted away from the table until his back bumped into the couch and opened his arms.  ‘Come on then, O happy boyfriend of mine, come get your attention.’

Cheering enthusiastically, Jisung rolled over onto his hands and knees and scrambled over to Minho, promptly settling himself between the older boy’s legs and wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist.  The older boy grinned at him, draping his arms over Jisung’s shoulders.

‘Is this enough attention?’ Minho asked, eyes fond.

‘Mmm...’  Jisung burrowed into the crook of Minho’s neck just long enough to press a kiss to the delicate skin there.  Then he lifted his head, nudging his nose against soft cheeks and chin and nose.

‘I wasn’t aware I had a cat for a boyfriend,’ Minho teased, one of his hands lifting to stroke the nape of Jisung’s neck.

Jisung squawked indignantly, leaning back so he could meet Minho’s twinkling eyes.  ‘I’m not a –’

He was rather abruptly cut off by Minho leaning in to claim his lips in a kiss.  After his initial surprise, Jisung relaxed into the contact, eyes slipping shut.  Minho hummed, tightening his hold on Jisung’s nape and Jisung squeezed Minho’s waist in return.

The kiss remained sweet and without heat, about comfort and attraction instead of passion and desire.  When Jisung licked over Minho’s bottom lip, the older boy opened his mouth to allow Jisung’s tongue inside, silken and wet.  Jisung cupped the back of Minho’s head with one hand, twining his fingers in the short, dark strands as he adjusted his position slightly.  Minho stroked his tongue against Jisung’s and nipped at the younger’s lip when he withdrew, drawing a brief, breathy moan from the eager boy.

They parted only momentarily for breath, breathing in each other’s oxygen and petting each other with gentle hands, before Jisung tilted his chin forward and closed the distance again.  For some minutes, the room was quiet but for the soft, sticky sounds of their kisses, the atmosphere hazy and content.

At last, Minho pulled back and rested his forehead against Jisung’s, both of them breathing hard.

‘I love it when you distract me,’ Minho confessed in a whisper.

A heart-shaped smile bloomed on Jisung’s face.  ‘I know, hyung.  That’s why I do it.’

Minho rolled his eyes but his tone remained gentle as he said, ‘How altruistic of you, thinking only of me.’

Jisung darted forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of Minho’s nose.  ‘I’m always thinking of you.’

‘Cheesy,’ Minho mumbled, but he did not move away.  After a silent minute, he said contemplatively, ‘You know, I think I can be done with the essay in half an hour, forty minutes tops, _if_ there are no more interruptions.’

Jisung laughed quietly.  ‘I’ll be silent as a mouse, hyung.’

Minho kissed his mouth once more, smiling.  ‘If you actually manage to do that, you can kiss me as soon as I’m done.’

Immediately, the younger was untangling himself from his boyfriend and saying excitedly, ‘What are you waiting for, then?  It’s studying time!’


	8. Close your weary eyes, rest your tired head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongbin - you can't keep doing this

The clock ticked over to midnight and Jeongin failed to stifle a huge yawn.  He shook his head to clear the bleariness from his eyes, cherry-red fringe feathering across his forehead.  He looked down at the book in his hands, saw he’d been on the same page for at least half an hour.  Probably the same line, too, though he didn’t remember which one it was.

Gods above, he needed some sleep.

On automatic, Jeongin glanced at the other side of the bed.  It was still as empty as it had been two minutes ago, duvet pulled up to the pillow, bedside light off.  He turned his gaze back to whatever it was he’d been reading but the words swam on the page, mixing and muddling, characters jumping out of place.  With a defeated sigh, Jeongin shut the book and put it on his little bedside table; his dyslexia was always so much worse when he was tired.

But it was so much harder to sleep when Changbin wasn’t here.

Jeongin glared at his phone, which had stayed silent since the last text three hours ago.  He clicked the screen awake anyway, his lock-screen staring blankly back at him.  It was a really cute photo, starring a laughing Changbin with buttercups in his hair.  Jeongin had taken it on their anniversary picnic date two months ago.

The screen went to sleep and then it was just Jeongin and his wireframes and his tired eyes.  He really didn’t like how sad he looked so he set the phone face down on top of his book.

_I should go to sleep.  Have to be up for work in seven hours._

Felix would scold him for not getting a full eight hours and Jeongin would complain that at least he wasn’t as bad as Changbin, to which Felix would reply that his health was not comparable to anyone else’s.  But the nagging would stop there because Felix knew what it was like to have a boyfriend who, even on a good night, slept five hours at most.

Jeongin was, of course, stalling.  He knew what he was going to do and it wasn’t sleep and no amount of prevaricating could deny the inevitable.

So, after spending another seven minutes trying to drill a hole a wall in the wardrobe door with the fire of his gaze alone, the cherry-haired young man flung back the duvet and rolled out of bed.  He replaced his pyjama shorts with his second-most-comfy pair of sweatpants (Changbin had stolen his favourite pair, dammit) and pulled on his pastel pink hoody, shoving his phone, wallet, and Changbin-mandated pepper spray in the front pocket.

Flicking off the lamp, Jeongin padded on quiet feet to the door of the apartment, slipping on his trainers and making sure the lock was set before he left.  Changbin used to fret about a pretty boy like him walking alone at night, even the fifteen-minute stretch to the studio, but Jeongin had shut him up by pointing out, firstly, that Changbin did it all the time, and secondly, Jeongin was a third-dan taekwondo black belt armed with mace.  Plus, their neighbourhood was a decent one.

Twelve flights of stairs and two key-coded doors later, Jeongin was out in the cool night air.  He shivered and set off down the pavement, streetlights and the occasional moth his only company.

The Cypher Studios building was, expectedly, dark when Jeongin arrived.  Undeterred, he swiped himself in (after the fourth time he’d had to come and drag Changbin’s insomniac butt home at ass-thirty in the morning, Jeongin had demanded a keycard) and made his way up to Studio 3 on the fourth floor.

As usual, it was the only room with any lights on.

A peek through the tiny window in the door revealed a rumpled figure hunched over the desk, two large monitors with assorted programs open looming above him.

Jeongin opened the door and slipped inside, eyes adjusting quickly to the dim gold glow of the two standing lights Changbin had on.  The man in question was curled up like a cat in his chair, drowning in his floppy black hoody, huge headphones covering his ears over the top of his beanie, chewing on the end of his pencil as he stared up at the screens.

Knowing how easily startled his boyfriend was when this deep in his music, Jeongin reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.  Changbin still jumped in surprise as he whipped around, dropping the pencil in his rush to take the headphones off.

‘Jeongin!’ he squeaked, wide-eyed.  ‘What are you doing here?’

The cherry-haired man’s lips pulled down in a moody pout.  ‘When did you last check the time, hyung?’

Realisation crashed over Changbin’s face and his lips made a little o.  ‘Um...  A while ago,’ he admitted quietly.

‘It’s almost half twelve,’ Jeongin informed him, eyes narrowing.  ‘Again.’

‘Ah.’

‘You look as tired as I feel,’ Jeongin continued ruthlessly.  Indeed, there were lavender bags under Changbin’s eyes and exhaustion set in every line of his face.

Changbin flushed and ducked his head for a moment, guilt and soft apology in his gaze when he looked back up.

‘I’m s–’

‘ _Don’t_ apologise to me,’ Jeongin snapped, struggling to contain the frustration bubbling under his skin.  ‘Turn off those stupid computers and stop staying out so late and come _home with me –_ ’

His building tirade was cut off by Changbin standing and hauling him into a hug, lean arms wrapping tightly around the taller man, one hand cupping the back of Jeongin’s head and bringing it down to the crook of Changbin’s neck.  Jeongin immediately relaxed into the hold, coiling his own arms around the older man’s waist.  He inhaled and exhaled shakily, clinging to the last fragments of his composure with an iron grip.

‘I’m sorry, Innie,’ Changbin whispered, his breath tickling Jeongin’s neck.  ‘I’m sorry for being a crap friend and a worse boyfriend.’

Jeongin squeezed Changbin sharply for a moment before mumbling firmly, ‘You’re neither of those things.  You just suck at following a decent sleep schedule.’  He lifted his head, looking down at the elder with pleading eyes.  ‘You can’t keep doing this.  _I_ can’t keep doing this.  I’m so tired, hyung.  I want to snuggled up in bed asleep.  _With_ you, because it’s no fun when I’m by myself.’

Changbin’s lower lip wobbled before he pursed them.  ‘Sweetheart,’ he began, voice cracking.

Shaking his head, Jeongin placed a forefinger against Changbin’s mouth.  ‘I mean it, I don’t want to hear any more apologies from you.  I love you, Seo Changbin, and we’re going to get through this _together_ but right now I just need you to come home, okay?’

The dark-haired man’s eyes glistened and he nodded.  ‘I can – I can do that,’ he mumbled, slightly hoarse.  ‘I’ll just – turn off the stupid computers and we can go.’

Jeongin smiled at his word choice.  He went to disentangle himself, but Changbin stopped him from moving away, lightly gripping the younger’s forearms.  Jeongin made an inquisitive noise, cocking his head.

Colour rising in his cheeks, Changbin said softly, ‘I love you, Yang Jeongin.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I would be lost without you.’

Smile broadening and a little thrill of happiness sparking in his heart, Jeongin said, ‘Yes I am and yes you would be.’

Before Changbin could splutter a response, the cherry-haired man leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to his parted lips, feeling him go still immediately.  The contact only lasted a moment and then Jeongin stepped back, placing his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders, whirling him around, and shoving him towards his computers with an affectionate smack on the butt.

‘Hurry up, Baby Binnie,’ Jeongin teased and Changbin squawked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For jeongbinx ^^ sorry if you were after something a little softer, this is what my hands felt like writing today ;;
> 
> (I tried to set the date to the 15th because that's What It Is and ao3 had the audacity to tell me I can't post this in the future! Bih, I am /living/ in your future!!)


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